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“Oh, how cool is that?” Mareike has been raving about the Dutch Windward Islands forever. But when Uncle Bert was alive, his health wouldn’t allow a trip to the tropics. I close my eyes and can almost see the brightly painted buildings in typical colonial architecture that my aunt showed me in well-worn guidebooks about Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaçao. “You’re so good for her, really.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Horst sounds embarrassed. “Aren’t you mad that I’m kidnapping your aunt at Christmas, of all times? By the way, she’s just coming…”
A hustle and bustle, a rustle, and a breathing sound from the line, and then I’m connected to Mareike.
“Did heverteld[32]you?” she inquires breathlessly. “I wanted to break it to you gently,poepie. Now you must be disappointed. The firstkerstdagen[33]without me.”
“Oh, nonsense!” I laugh out loud, trying to drown out the odd feeling in my stomach.Kerst[34]—Christmas—without her? I never wanted to imagine that. Because even though I’ve always called Mareike just Auntie—after my parents died, she filled the role of parent with me even more than Bert did. “How old do you think I am? Eight or nine? No, calm down. The timing is perfect. Let off steam—while you still can.”
“While we still can?” Mareike inquires with indignation in her voice. “What are you trying to say? That we give the whistle to Maarten?”
That they’ve got one foot in the grave?“Onzin![35]“ I object.Of course, I don’t expect her or Horst to turn up their toes.“I just mean: someday I want to have children, too. And then, of course, you’ll have to celebrate with us every Christmas!”
“Kleinkinderen[36]…” Mareike sighs with fervor. “Nou ja[37], it’s nothing new for you: grandchildren are something I’ve wanted for a long time.”
Children…It’s not that the thought feels scary. Rather—unfamiliar. It’s funny thatthatslipped out of my mouth now of all times. It’s probably because of the contemplative Advent season, which is completely focused on families. And because Katja the receptionist tells me almost every day how well her twins are memorizing their lines for the Nativity play.
As if by magic, my gaze wanders over to the fir tree arrangement on the conference table.
The green of the needles, the red of the Christmas tree balls, and the yellowish glow of the mini-LED fairy lights blur before my eyes. Instead, a festively decorated room appears before my eyes.
Mareike and Horst on a comfortable sofa; between them, a cheekily-grinning blond of maybe four years. A man, only vaguely discernible, approaches my aunt and bends down to her. He places a proper infant in her arms. Her face is lit by a luminous glow as she strokes the baby’s cheek. Innate, endless warmth without space or time floods my veins as I watch the father of the two children stand. He turns to me, and I sink into contemplating his features. How I love to look at him! He is so evenly perfect. Boyish and yet strikingly masculine at the same time. And then those full lips, around which an ambiguous smile flutters. Exotic, masculine, and dangerous.
Oh my God!The realization that in my daydream I’ve just imagined none other than Philipp as the father of my children constricts my throat. I choke and cough until tears come to my eyes. Gasping for breath, I cling to the edge of the table. I hear myself groan, the phone receiver slipping from my suddenly sweaty hands.
“Poepie?” it croaks softly from the shell. “Celine?”
Aunt Mareike!I wake up from my stupor, sink to my knees, and drag the receiver, which has slid under the desk, to me. Finally, I hold it to my ear.
“Is alles goed met je, poepie?[38]“ asks Mareike with concern.
“Everything is fine with me,” I fib.Oh my God! If someone had told me a year ago that I would turn into such a skillful liar… I would have laughed at him!“I just imagined…”Crap! There’s no way I can tell her what I imagined! But what then? Ahh, yes. Exactly!“I was just imagining how much you two would enjoy the Caribbean. And with all that enthusiastic hip-swinging, the phone fell out of my hand.”
“Hahaha!” Mareike laughs. “Yes, this I can imagine very well.” She warbles a few off-key bars to herself. “Mijn poepie[39]has always loved to dance!”
“Dancing?” comes Horst’s voice from the background. “Who’s going to dance?”
“Well, you!” I shout into the phone—grateful for the opportunity to divert attention from myself. “I’m sure there will be classes in standard and Latin dance on the cruise ship.”
“Ja,precies[40]!” Mareike lets out a giggling sound. “And on the ship, he can’t make excuses…”
If I catch it correctly, Horst threatens me with getting a smacked bottom, whereupon, judging by the sounds, Mareike gives him exactly that. Smiling silently to myself, I listen to the turmoil until I can finally say goodbye.
“And you’re really not upset because—” my aunt starts, and I cut her off.
“No, Mareike. I’m really not disappointed. Cross my heart!”How old does she think I am? Eight or nine?
“Fijn[41],” she says—though she sounds anything but pleased. “But I’ll definitely call you!”
“I hope so!” I tease her. “So, now you have to promise me that you’ll have lots and lots of fun! Yes?”
“Ok,bedankt[42],” Mareike gives in. “Tot ziens![43]“
“Tot ziens!” I repeat her farewell greeting. Then I hang up.
Later, when I tell Kevin that we’ll have to do without Mareike and Horst this Christmas, he just shrugs.
“You’ve got to part from your aunt at some point,” he comments when I gently address him about his callousness. “It’s really not healthy, the way she’s mothering you. Almost like a mother hen. Besides, now we can finally spend Christmas Eve with my parents!”
